Funeral Pyres & Beach Grass

It’s one of those gray days in Minneapolis. A storm kicked up her heels last night, a gale force blowing through my dreams. Mr. StripeyPants is draped over a soft brown blanket next to me on the couch. I grabbed my small red greenroom eco notebook of haiku. There they were — the scratched syllables of a day on Lake Michigan.

I looked at the photographs from the writing retreat a few weekends ago. The funeral pyre popped out at me. After we arrived at the little cabins in Wisconsin, we learned that the matriarch of the family-owned business had passed away earlier in the week. She was in her 90’s.

The family gathered to pay their respects. And when we walked on the beach that morning, we passed a tall wooden spire, a testament to her memory. At lunch, an adolescent boy in a black suit paced the pine needles next to our cabin, crumpled paper in hand. He glanced down to the page, out over the blooming tulips, then, lips moving, back to the page.

After dinner, and a day of silence and writing, we looked out the picture window to see the funeral pyre burning. Moths to the flame, we could not help but step out to the porch. We talked quietly among ourselves, but mostly, we stood still and watched. Bearing witness.

It was humbling. In a few minutes, it started to rain. At the same time, a gust of wind burst through the skirts of the white pines and blew out to sea.

Then, complete stillness.

Later in the evening, we were chatting by the fire, and what sounded like gunshots echoed across the beach grass. Fireworks. That’s the way I want to go out. A gangly fire on the beach. Wind blowing my ashes out to sea. Rain to quench my thirst. Giant starbursts in a Full Moon sky.

That Saturday, I wrote these haiku. And to the matriarch — though I did not know you, I know The Grandmothers. And for a few days, I knew the place you called home. Rest in peace.

standing in the sun
waves crashing all around me
pale face, flushed and hot

puffy cirrus clouds
spread cream cheese over the land
gulls dive for crayfish

Beautiful photos and haiku, QM. I especially love the first of the three smaller photos, its “cream cheese” clouds (smile).

Interesting about the matriarch’s death. I think the idea of a gangly fire and a gathering of people who loved her, plus the fireworks — yes, good way to go out. Celebrating yet connected to nature, land, and something about the somberness, too.

Hey, I won’t be on the blog until Sun night. Speaking of cabins, we’ll be up at ours this weekend. I’m looking forward to it. Hope everyone has a good one.

ybonesy, have a great time at the cabin. Woo-hoo! vacation time. Hope you take your camera and sketchbook. Looking forward to your stories. It’s always good to get away from home. The change in perspective is so helpful.

Oh, ybonesy, about the matriarch’s death, I was surprised at how much I was affected by that happening. There was a stillness and somberness in the air that permeated the silence. And, at the same time, a fullness and joy, and all that beauty. Everything was there. We held everything.

My next most favorite part of that story was what happened the next day as we were preparing to leave. The daughter-in-law stopped by to collect the payment for the cabins and mentioned the rainstorm that popped up and then that gust of wind blowing out onto the lake. I think she said, “I like to think that was Daddy gathering up Mother’s soul and taking it to Heaven.” Maybe those aren’t quite the words but that captures the thought.

Bob, that was like the icing on the cake, wasn’t it. I couldn’t believe how she stopped by that last day as we were talking about our project goals, picked up the checks, stayed only a couple of minutes, and in that short time, mentioned the wind, the spirits of the father, the mother. It validated everything we’d felt the night before. Thanks for the reminder. I won’t ever forget that weekend. There was a very thin veil between the worlds along that little piece of shoreline. 8)

BTW, speaking of the father, I just loved all the attention to detail in the big cabin, and I pictured him lovingly building it for his family. I don’t know if that was true or not. But I had a strong sense he was hanging around. And then our little cabin was a lot like stepping back into the 50’s. Amazing that there are places that remain true to themselves like that.

Quoinmonkey, I felt that, too, the thinness of the veil along that shore, the closeness of death to life, as if we could have travelled up the smoke from the pyre and into the place Maurine had gone.
Your haiku make me want to offer up my own from that weekend:

jude, your haiku are striking. They capture the moments so beautifully. Thank you so much for sharing them here. I’m glad I wasn’t alone. I felt so much in community with nature and the other writers there. And knowing I saw that same hollowed out fish corpse and we both wrote about it. I love that.

diddy, I’ve been imagining you on the river with J. and Frankenstein and the little graveyard on the other side. I’m glad I got to see your place last year because now I can picture you there on the Susquehanna. Lovely image.

QM and to the others who shared this experience, thank you for sharing this experience on redRavine. The images, the haiku, and the writings of each of you bought the experience close to my soul. The invisible “thin veil between the worlds along that little piece of shoreline” is felt by me, and I thank you for waking me up this morning. At a time where I continue to watch my own grandmother’s life eep out of her and yet can feel the other side touching her, holding her, I truly am thankful for the sharing from each of you that experienced this. I wish I was there…and was, as I read this.

QM, jude, Bob, …it is obvious how much this experience moved you. I almost felt as though all of us who read the beautiful haiku and viewed the great photos were included…thank you all so very much!
Glad to hear of the daughter’s comment on her father’s spirit. It reminded me of my mother’s passing. She could not see me or speak, but as I held her in my arms, saying goodbye for the last time, I almost said, “Give my love to Daddy.” I caught myself, and held back the audible greeting, though I felt the presence of both of them, and it comforted me, because I just knew they understood.
Perhaps the veil is thinnest during that moment of passage.

Teri, it does feel like being next to an ocean. I couldn’t help but compare it to my trips to Lake Superior along the North Shore of Minnesota. Lake Michigan felt big and vast like that. Lake Superior feels bigger to me when I’m there. But I wonder if it’s because I know so much more about her history.

I did find a coffee table book on Lake Michigan in the big cabin when we were there. I picked it up and read a little about the lake and the ecosystems. If I spent more time there, I’d want to learn more. 8)

Spiritdwel, so good to hear from you. I’ve been wondering how it’s been going with your Grandmother in the South. You seem very close to her. I was feeling some of that tug toward my own grandmother when we were watching the funeral pyre on the beach. I had never met Maurine. Or even knew what she looked like. But I had such a strong sense of her that weekend.

I often miss my Grandmothers who passed over some time ago. I was probably closest to Elise on my mother’s side. Though she is close to me, I wish I had the opportunity to spend time with her again, to ask her all the questions I didn’t know how to ask when I was younger. Yet, it has to be okay not knowing. I still feel her close every day.

oliverowl, that’s very moving about your mother, and the presence of your father there, too. The two grandparents I was closest to passed on within one year of each other, first my granddaddy, then my grandmama a year later. Though they had been divorced for many years, it always seemed to me like they were still connected, still together in many ways. And sometimes I get a sense that they see each other still.

It seems like the connections we are all talking about in these comments bring us all closer. And I appreciate hearing people’s stories. Because someday, we, too, will pass on. And on the same day, a new little person will be born into the world.

I loved this QM. There’s an old movie you might like called “Rocket Gibraltar” (1988) with Burt Lancaster as the Family Matriarch (and a future child star Macauley Culkin) that has a wonderful theme with this in mind.

When my own Father passed on…fishing was his great passion…so we had a boat parade, complete with Scottish bagpipes out into the ocean to drop his ashes in his favorite hot spot. I had a little boat made and I dropped it into the water and as it sailed into the sunset, a close friend of his from another boat shot a flaming arrow over it from across the way. I wanted to set a viking ship on fire but my Sister’s thought I’d be hauled away to the nearest jail. I settled for the flaming arrow. It was all totally illegal and I loved every minute.

Funny ending…as we all came back in… 6 boats total from our secret mission…the Coast Guard had set their flag at half mast… 😉

heather, thank you. I love the ritual for your dad with the Scottish bagpipes and flaming arrow sailing over the little boat. Pretty cool about the Coast Guard, too. A Viking ship funeral pyre, now that would be something to see. But then, after that, you might not be here blogging today. 8)

It’s funny how Earth, Fire, Water, Wind, the Elements play a crucial part in all the different ways we depart this earth. It’s almost like our Spirits are drawn back to where we come from. Yet our society (as a rule) lives so far from our earthen roots. There is something inside that calls us home.

These photos and the images in words are spectacular. I have visited several times a day since they were posted, just to look again, especially the lake in its various moods. Looking at water is calming – stark contrast with the power of the wind-blown fire.

My mom died in deep-frozen mid-winter in northern Maine and we did not get the family together to take her ashes out on Madawaska Lake until July. We were drifting out there, everyone quiet or sniffling a little, after a short reading – when suddenly there was a loud banging on the bottom of the boat. Bang!Bang!Boom! Then again, the other side…

A moment of shock, then we all started laughing. It’s Mom! A bald eagle flew over us, landed in the treetops. My dad was already asleep.

Isn’t that wild, lil? I mean, what else could it have been?? And then the bald eagle. Wow.

QM, you talked about the different elements (Earth, Wind, Water, Fire, etc.) that come into play, but I am mostly struck by the importance of water to those who’ve lived lives near water. Boats and seas and oceans.

I guess because my experience with water is limited to rivers, and small ones at that, I see a going back to these bodies of water. That stands out.

We are traveling south on the 14 to celebrate Grandma Bessie officially turning 101 (on the 13th).
She FINALLY allowed my Father to talk to her about her wishes when she leaves this world. She wants to go back to the area she lived in until a few years ago. She said she wants an old timey funeral..open casket…people coming up to tell her good by, etc. There is a problem though, no one knows her there now for she has out lived them all. I am not sure what the family will do about her wishes, and I do not think she understands the situation. Even if the men were alive that she selected, they would not be able to carry the coffin!! I will be talking to my Father about plan B when I see him at the party.

I may take some pictures of her at the party and dedicate a post to her. 🙂

Thank you for sharing the images and your beautiful descriptive words!

chickenlil, that’s a great story about your mom banging on the bottom of the boat. And then the eagle. Very powerful. Thanks for sharing that story. I love the name of the lake — Madawaska Lake.

You mentioned the windblown fire, and I had wanted to mention the bottom two funeral pyre images. Because like ybonesy with the Virgin Mary, I see something in them.

The fire in the bottom left image looks to me like someone pointing down the beach. And the right image looks to me like a bird head, rising above the fire. Does anyone else see that? You can click on them to enlarge. As soon as I saw the bird head, I went right to the Phoenix rising. Fire plays such a key role in transformation.

gypsy-heart, how wonderful that your grandmother is 101. Amazing. Think of everything she has seen in her lifetime! I do hope you do a post on her. That’s so interesting about wanting to honor her last wishes, yet now knowing how it’s going to work with many of her friends gone.

I wonder what would happen if you honored her wishes anyway — maybe many from the Spirit World would show up. Or perhaps people you don’t know who knew and remembered her. So much to think about when honoring last wishes. Sense of place seems very important to people. Thanks so much for sharing about Grandma Bessie.

ybonesy, I think that’s true about the importance of water. And going back to places where we have good memories from our growing up years, or that have meaning to us.

I didn’t know until a few years ago that Mom wanted to have her ashes scattered over Clark’s Hill dam. I have memories of boating and swimming there when I was young. Mom loved to water ski and swim and instilled a love of the water into us from a very young age.

Then her mother, my grandmother, was always fearful around the water after her son drowned at 18. So there was always that push-pull dynamic happening when we would go to the lake.

It’s also significant to me that Mom wants her ashes scattered in the South where her roots are, where she grew up. Even though she has not lived there in over 40 years. That is the power of memory and place.

WOW ! some of these stories really make me wonder!
Is my house getting ready to go? The WIND took off the roof during a storm, the EARTH pushed in the basement wall, the FIRE destroyed the kitchen and other parts of it, the WATER pushed out the basement window and flooded it. Is it an omen of what happens next ? It’s slowly dying I just hope it lasts as long as I do.

The knocking on the boat and the Eagle , I’ll have to tell my brother to be forewarned when he spreads my ashes at Clarks Hill, I will be near by. It will freak him out ! He wants to believe in happenings but fights it all the way. I’ll make a believer out of him yet.

MOM, your story about the house and her run-in’s with Earth, Wind, Fire, and Water, makes me chuckle. But I know it wasn’t funny at the time! I remember some of those incidents. The water pouring into the basement that time it flooded. I have this memory of you standing on a stool, water gushing in. You were holding the window shut until we could come over and help you latch it.

I think I was out of the house by the time the fire happened and the roof blew off! Remember that flood around 1971 or 1972? The Susquehanna rolled so far over her banks. There was another one in ’75, I think, when I was away at school. Crazy times!

Hey, I have no doubt you’ll be around us watching when we spread your ashes at Clark’s Hill! I bet your brother (my uncle) believes more than he lets on. We’ll have to talk about it when we see him in July.

It was a hard time when your parents died, both within a year. It felt like I lived on the other side of the world then. I was just talking to someone on Friday about how much I thought I knew in my 20’s — and now, looking back, how little I actually did. In fact, the older I get, the less I feel I know!

[…] went on a weekend writing and meditation retreat last May. On one of our silent afternoon breaks, I sat by Lake Michigan writing haiku in a red notebook, and slow walked barefoot along the sand, carrying a big stick (no Presidential pun intended). […]

Three of my writing friends, Jude, Teri, and Bob, are heading back to Lake Michigan today, to the same cabin we were in last May, to walk, write, be in silence, and share. I elected not to go this time; I felt like I had traveled enough for my writing this summer and wanted to be close to home.

But I wanted to hold the space here for them, to tell them I will be there in Spirit. And I know they are holding the space for me, and all writers across the world who come together to support each other along the way.

Say Hi to Maurine because I’m sure her Spirit is not far away from the place she called Home.

Say Hi to Lake Michigan, another Great Lake, one of those wombs of the Earth.

I listened to Anne Lamott’s “Word by Word” cassettes both going to and returning from Lake Michigan. Besides all the other wonderful things Anne said about writing, she encouraged writers to find a group to be a part of.

I couldn’t agree more. For four days Bob, Jude, and I wrote together, meditated together, slow-walked together, ate our meals together, and ended on Monday with setting goals for the next sixth months. I needed to get recallibrated in my writing life, and I knew I couldn’t do it alone.

I’m back to Minneapolis, and I have direction. Oh, yes, Monkey Mind is still rattling in my brain, but with the strength of the group I can press on.

Teri, how delightful that you found the note on this post. Made my day. Setting goals for me, recalibrating, is so important, too. Even if I fall short, at least I’ve set a direction.

I thought of the three of you often over last weekend; it made me feel so peaceful just knowing you were there. Holding space. It sure seems easier to have the support of different groups, than to try to do all this alone.

I’m glad you had a chance to listen to the Anne Lamott tapes again. She’s direct and I like that about her. I’d like to see her speak in person some day.

How was Lake Michigan in October? Was it cold? Liz and I have been talking about a trip to Lake Superior. But I’m not sure when that’s going to be. Sometimes we go in January and the wind is so fierce then. We really have to bundle up.

I just got back from a few days on this lovely site on Lake Michigan. Was there with 3 other Midwest writers (no Internet access) for a writing retreat. We had a ferocious storm on Tuesday that lasted for hours. And there were white caps mingled with the howling wind. Then yesterday morning, the Fall light was perfect in the wind and sun.

Hope to post some photos from the time away. I spent some time getting to know my camera better. Also did a ton of Writing Practice. More on that in a post next week. Gratitude to those who keep showing up for writing, for art, for themselves and others. Community is formed and sustained.

ybonesy, I have so much gratitude that you held down the fort this week on red Ravine. Thanks for posting all the Envy guests. I so appreciate you and missed you and red Ravine.

[…] side of Lake Michigan. This is the 7th time we’ve met. The first was October 2007 at McCreedy’s in Sheboygan County, Wisconsin. Somewhere in the middle, there was Kansas City, Missouri. The last retreat was on Lake […]